Strike a Match
by Moonraker One
Summary: Hikaru Shindo may be the best super soldier Kerberos Security has, but even he may not be ready for the consequences of saving a life. Akira Touya has not just the mob, but corrupt government officials after him, and the two must work together to survive a modern Japanese underworld of crime.
1. Chapter 1

Strike a Match

By Moonraker One

CHAPTER ONE

Gunshots rang out over a building in Seoul, South Korea. Sixteen men on a rooftop opened fire on a helicopter, wounding the pilot and forcing the retreat. A man on a minigun on the roof managed to damage the fuel compartment, causing the vehicle to nearly crash into another skyscraper on its way. The group of terrorists celebrated their continued activity by throwing an officer's corpse over the side of the building. A man on the roof radioed to his boss three floors below, waiting for the vault to open.

"Hey! Pigs!" the man on the roof shouted over the building's speakers. "You have ten minutes to open the damn safe before our ride gets here, or else we kill everyone!"

On the ground, the man in charge of the operation to solve the situation looked to his government liaison. "Well, I think we're going to have to give them the vault," he said.

The suited government agent threw his cup on the ground. "Damn it!" he shouted. He turned to his radio. "Is he in position yet?"

A set of footsteps approached. "No," a teenage boy said, "but I am."

As the young man stood in front of the two, the government agent couldn't help but laugh at the young man. "Oh, shit, what is this?" he chuckled. It made sense to the other man; the new arrival stood a few inches below each of them, had the smooth face of youth, and he spoke his Korean with a thick northern Japanese accent. Plus, he wore his black short hair with dyed blonde bangs. "Go on home to mother, kid!"

The other man turned quickly between his government liaison and the kid. "Son, are you really the guy Kerberos sent us?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm," the kid responded. "Sorry it took me so long, I had to get changed." He motioned to his thick combat shoes, cargo pants with thin armored lining, and his knife-resistant shirt and jacket with knives in multiple pockets. "Name's Shindo Hikaru." He saluted.

"Kid, you're what, fifteen?" the officer asked.

The government agent chimed in, "The fuck is he going to do?"

"Are you prepared to authorize Kerberos to provide services?" Hikaru asked, formally standing at attention. "Full immunity from prosecution must be afforded and not a single action will be taken without it. Once you agree, this verbal agreement is irrevocable."

The government agent and the officer stared at each other in bewilderment. "Dah ha haha!" both chuckled.

"Sure," the government agent said.

Hikaru nodded and pressed a button on his pant belt. "Let it be recorded that Kerberos was given authorization by the Korean government to act on the request given," he elaborated, "and payment will be charged upon success of the mission." He shook the hand of the agent. "You will receive a bill upon success of the mission." He started off in the direction of the building.

"Hey! Wait!" The officer yelled. "Do you have a plan?"

"My strategy must remain with me," Hikaru said, over his shoulder. "If I say it out loud, it's not secret anymore."

Hikaru ran and sat behind a large concrete vase of flowers at the base of a stair leading up to the front of the building. At quick glance, he counted. Fifteen up front, he saw. Russian AK-47s, a few grenades, and Kevlar vests. _Standard fare,_ he thought. A quick scan gave him a route. Taking a deep breath, he jerked sideways, and made a break for a concrete ball sitting atop a small statue. Rounds bounced off the pavement as he sprinted. Scooping up the seventy-pound sphere with his right hand, he jumped, twisting in midair to avoid a grenade which bounced and rolled below and behind him. Landing, he threw the ball one-handed into the nearest man's skull. Instant kill. Another sprint and he was up on the platform of the entrance. A gunman turned in his direction, but Hikaru drew a knife from a shirt pocket, and threw it to the man's neck before he could fire.

As gunfire came in his direction, he slid off the platform to a level below where he passed three men, jumping to his feet behind one of them and using him to fire at the other two, then whirling the man around to use as a human shield. He kicked the bullet-riddled man into a group of five. As they clamored to stand up or fire, Hikaru swiped a grenade and tossed it, clearing out more men. A knife toss reduced the number left from nine to eight. He cartwheeled off a step as gunshots hit right where he had been. A man shouted and fired, Hikaru rising to a standing position and pushing the gun out of the way. A hasty jab to the throat and the gun was his. He turned it around and fired; now there were seven.

He spun around and ran behind a large concrete sign. He shook his head. The wall of the building was three feet from him, he took a leap and barely avoided getting hit. From where he was, he heard running. He had an advantage because they could only come from one way, but he would be outnumbered seven to one. Closing his eyes, he steeled himself. The first man came around the corner.

Hikaru's heart pounded. He had only a split second to grab the rifle and push it aside. Fortunately, his hand moved quickly and he had the gun out of the way. Instinctively, he pulled the man forward, dropping his gun and elbowing the man in the head hard enough to break his neck instantly. As the corpse fell, he spun the rifle around and fired at the second and third men who approached. With only four left, he expected to hear footsteps, but instead, silence.

 _Grenade!_ He realized. The sound of a pin pulled indicated the men weren't willing to sacrifice themselves. Knowing his fate depended on judging throwing distance, he did the math in his head at lightning speed. He grit his teeth. _NOW!_ He spun around the corner, and sure enough, a grenade midair headed towards the ground in front of him. His shoe caught it and sent it back, and he spun back around the corner with blistering speed as gunshots whished past him. A scream preceded an explosion he felt as he dashed to get farther away. A look later, and he saw the last of the guards of the front were dead. He gathered his knives from corpses and headed into the building.

He checked his watch. _Fifty-three seconds_ , he thought. He let out a sigh; his old instructor had been right to always plan ahead and not rely on improvisation. As he entered the staircase, he remembered the briefing and how many men were in the building. Two necks he snapped on the way up, trying to avoid being heard. He took the service elevator which didn't have cameras on it, up to the nineteenth floor. The door opened and a man standing in front of it caught a knife to the back of the neck for his trouble.

The shout alerted the others, so Hikaru ran for the hallway ahead, throwing daggers into a man behind and in front of him. Rounding the hallway, he shoved a man into the wall head first before he could react and as the other fired, he kicked the gun from his hands. The man swung a punch only to see his arm broken with a fist to the elbow and a knee to the face, which finished him off. He grabbed a pistol from the man's pants. Three men rounded the ahead corner; three shots took them out. He grabbed another pistol and dual wielded them. On his way to the main elevator, another nine men died with one clean shot each to the head.

As Hikaru made his way upstairs, the tighter hallways made him smile; not enough room for unwieldy rifles. He sprinted, kicking a man several feet down the hall into five others before he could react. A series of shots later and they became a pile of bodies. A gunman popped out of a room, and got shot. Hikaru knew, based on the layout, he was mere feet from the main bad guy.

A deep breath later and he kicked the door in. A startled terrorist by the door caught a knife to the neck and dropped like a stone. Hostages screamed. A tattooed attacker approached and Hikaru parried his punch into a knee to the gut and then planted him face first into the marble wall. Two men rushed him and he spun out of their way, and shot them in the back of the head. With the last bullets in each pistol, he killed the last two guarding the main bad guy.

The lead terrorist threw a punch and caught Hikaru off guard. He followed it up with a kick to the chest and a flurry of punches. Hikaru reeled backwards. "Not bad," he said.

The taller, muscular man sneered. "They send a kid to kill me," he said. "You're something else, but still a kid."

"Alright," Hikaru replied. "Let's do this."

The man delivered a skilled Judo kick. Hikaru dodged and broke the man's kneecap with a punch. The man yelped as Hikaru punched him square in the gut. When the man bent forward in pain, he met a knee to the face and an elbow to the forehead which laid him out.

"No, please," the man begged.

Hikaru jammed a knife into the forehead and pulled it out. The body fell limp. "The target is down, the building is clear," Hikaru reported, "snipers, you can clear the roof now." He took a knife out and freed the hostages. "Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of Kerberos, you are free now."

He made his way to the ground level as the screams of dying terrorists on the roof echoed. The officer and government liaison both stared at him in utter disbelief. "How, how the fuck did you do that?" The officer finally said.

"I'm a fully-trained and licensed super soldier," Hikaru said. "Kerberos only hires the best."

The liaison shook his head. "Well, I don't know what to say," he admitted. "So, what happens now?"

"Kerberos will bill you in a week," Hikaru explained. "Right now, I have to go. Thank you for your cooperation." A chopper landed nearby with the Kerberos symbol on it. A man in a suit welcomed the young man.

"So, Shindo-san," the man in the suit said. "You're off for some time now, right?"

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to my mom's cooking again, Ogata-san," Hikaru replied. "Besides, aren't you going back to professional Go for a while?"

Ogata loosened his tie. "Absolutely. We both deserve a vacation. It's just a shame that yours will involve school."

Hikaru laughed. "Yeah, well, I think I've had enough excitement for a bit. Let the other agents handle it."

The door to the Shindo household opened and its favorite son walked in. Sliding off his shoes, he dropped his duffel bag at the doorway and walked into a hug by his mother. "Hikaru!" she yelled, holding him tight. "You're back! Oh, god, I missed you."

"I'm finished for the foreseeable future," he said. "I'll be home for a while. Did you cook anything?"

"Ramen and steak, two of your favorites," she said, leading him into the kitchen.

He took off his jacket and draped it over the chair. "Ooh! Just what I've been waiting for!" He dug in, not bothering to put a napkin over his pants. He ate with the reckless abandon she'd gotten used to watching.

She noticed his change since the last mission. "You've gotten stronger," she noticed. "You've been training hard, yes?"

He hadn't thought of it. "I suppose," he admitted. "It's the same I always do." He looked at his shirt. The standard Kerberos undershirt was designed to stretch. He'd been wearing the same one so long, he barely noticed his chest stuck out. Just six months prior, it wasn't noticeable, but now he noticed his torso had a clear shape of masculinity. It wasn't excessive, but it wasn't invisible. He wasn't mannequin-shaped any longer.

"I mean, you must be the star of the gym class," she said, smiling. "And the girls must be all over you."

He shook his head. " _Mom_ ," he cried. He finished the steak and began working on the ramen. "I'm not training for a track meet, or football practice. I'm training to fight some of the worst terrorists in the world."

"Is that what you want to do for the future?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "I don't think so," he admitted. "The pay's great—don't get me wrong—but I don't want to kill people for the rest of my life."

As he ate in relative silence for a few minutes, she couldn't help but be amazed. Her chubby-faced little boy of eleven, who enjoyed soccer in the summer and playing go in the winter, had grown, without her even knowing it, into a man of fifteen. She had extreme trepidation about him taking an experimental drug, and even more so about him joining a private security firm, but somehow he'd adapted nicely. She'd never seen anything like it. Everyone she knew said he'd come back broken and riddled with PTSD, but he found something that he excelled at and, she had to admit, brought home a nice paycheck that really helped out.

"Mom?" he asked, startling her. "Why do you think people are driven to kill people they've never met?"

"Well," she said. She paused for a great while. He'd never asked her such a question. She almost didn't have an answer. "I think some people are just filled with hate and it has to go somewhere."

"So, you think they'd find some excuse to do these things, even if they didn't have one already?" He looked to her answer with a serious face.

"I…probably," she stammered. "Hikaru, what's this about? You never talk about work."

He took a deep breath and let it go. "I killed at least thirty men yesterday," he admitted. "All of them were terrorists belonging to a North Korean organization, but I infiltrated them perfectly. They had a number of hostages, but the only thing I could see was, any of the innocent people at gunpoint could've been you or dad."

"Oh, Hikaru, how do you keep doing what you do?"

He half-smiled at her question. "The world's getting safer, a little at a time, but it's also getting smaller." He sighed. "It's not easy. I keep doing it because all of those hostages had families like I do."

The gravity of the situation weighed on not just Hikaru, but his entire family. Sending a child under eighteen into active combat had only recently become legal, and the only justification given came from the United Nations' anti-terrorism decree. Private institutions such as Kerberos started popping up in the wake of the Middle Eastern conflicts that sprung up after the United States' incursions into foreign conflict. Japan had been given a special license, as it was their technology that made the most headway into anti-terrorism.

He dropped his bag by the side of his bed after changing and plopped into bed. He didn't even bother brushing his teeth. Snapping his phone into the charger, he fell asleep in moments, drifting off to dream. The exhaustion of repeated missions caught up to him as he slept, not even covered in sheets.

The buzzing of his phone alarm plus the morning sun woke him up. A yawn with outstretched arms and he stood up. Shuffling to the shower, he cleaned up and fifteen minutes later, slipped new boxers on and his school uniform pants. The black pants weren't as loose as he hoped. He'd have to tell his mother, he realized, his thicker legs demanded new pants. Thankfully, though, he thought, the shirt and jacket slid on just fine. He loaded his gym clothes into his backpack and headed off to high school.

On the way to school, he passed by a young man about his age dressed in a modest yet expensive suit. The young man's dark, bobbed hair made him look at once old fashioned and effeminate. He felt the face looked familiar, although he didn't know where from. His gaze caught the young man's for just a second.

"I've seen you around," the boy said, moving past a line of people and approaching Hikaru. "Don't you play go at the salon where Ogata-sensei plays, three blocks away from the recreational center?"

Hikaru looked at him and pondered it for a moment while walking. "Yeah, I've played with him a few times now," he replied, "how do you know him?"

The boy figured it out. "Ah, so you _are_ familiar with Ogata-sensei!" He stuck out a hand. "Touya Akira."

Hikaru adjusted his backpack. "Shindo Hikaru," he introduced. "How do _you_ know Ogata-san?"

"My father's a professional go player, the Meijin," Akira explained. "The two have had matches before. You're familiar with Ogata from…?"

Hikaru pulled out his rehearsed lie. "I work with Ogata-san on the side," he said. "He owns a small business and I work there part time."

"That's interesting," Akira replied. He coughed a few times.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, just a cold, I think," Akira said. "Since we both are interested in Go, I was wondering if you might want to come to my father's Go salon." Hikaru handed him his phone, and Akira typed the information in. "Great! I'll see you there. Nice talking to you!"

Hikaru smiled. "Nice talking to you," he said. He thought of something. "Hey, I wonder, why aren't you going to school?"

"I'm trying out for professional in Go," Akira explained. "I probably won't go."

Hikaru went onto school. His first day came and went, and he found being unnoticed very easy. No one bothered him because he blended in well, and even his dyed bangs didn't attract anyone dumb enough to try and bully him. After it ended for the day, he walked on towards the address. A few minutes of walking and he entered a decent sized Go salon, and he paid and sat down.

"Glad you could make it!" Akira exclaimed, handing out the bowls of stones. "What level do you play at?"

"Oh, I take a four stone handicap against Ogata-san," Hikaru said.

Akira's eyes widened. "Wow, that's impressive," he said. "So, how about we play an even match just to see where we stand?"

Hikaru nodded. "That sounds good," he replied. "I'll be black, since you're probably better than me, alright?"

"That's fine," Akira responded. He waited for Hikaru to play a move. He played his, his mood changing abruptly.

Hikaru couldn't help but be impressed, how his opponent became immediately hard focused on the game. As they traded moves, he found it a stark contrast to the way Ogata played a laid-back style against him. Then again, he figured, he wasn't much of a threat to his supervisor in the game. As the game progressed, it became apparent that they were closer in skill than either of them were with the ones they usually played against.

Akira found it surprising how much Hikaru played similarly to his own level of skill. He had a slight advantage over the boy, but it felt very organic, as opposed to how his father, the Meijin, always made it feel like a seminar. The teenager had clearly played for years, but for once Akira felt like his own game play could matter towards victory.

Hikaru steeled his facial expressions as the midgame wore on. He saw that his attempts to close in on Akira weren't working. He opened strong, but his opponent had skill beyond his own. Not tremendously, but enough to pull up from behind and take the lead. The endgame approached with each side furiously scrambling for points. He found himself at a point where he could not proceed.

"I give up," Hikaru said, bowing.

"Thank you for the game," Akira replied.

Hikaru looked at it with curious eyes. "Man, that midgame was furious. I can't believe it."

"You did great for someone I've never played before," Akira complimented. "With no handicap, you played better than just about anyone my age I've played."

"So, what are you up to?" Hikaru said.

Akira picked up his bag. "Well, not much," he admitted. "I'm going to be heading home, because my mom's cooking dinner and she wants me back before a certain time."

"Well," Hikaru said, bowing, "I'll be seeing you around." He waited for Akira to leave, then left the salon. He turned left to walk back home for the evening, but a sound of something dropping caused him to turn. He turned around.

Akira picked up his wallet, it having fallen from his pocket as he frantically walked. His cell rang, and he answered it with a ragged breath. "Yes?" he answered. "Touya speaking." He let out a sigh. "Yes, I know. My father said he'll have it by the end of the month. I know, Sumakana-san, but there's nothing to be done until the end of the month. I'm aware. I'm sorry. Thank you." He hung up the phone. Hikaru began shadowing him, watching as the boy's hands went from steady to twitchy and his legs from even to shifting.

Akira suddenly lurched forward, dropping to his knees, and collapsing, vomiting blood on the pavement. Hikaru dashed up and knelt beside him. "Touya-san!" He looked at the blood and his mouth. There were no visible wounds to the outside. His shirt and jacket weren't stained or damaged. It had to be internal, probably an infection or something even worse. He turned Akira over and felt his ribs, and felt nothing broken. Someone having called emergency, he waited while minutes ticked by.

A cough startled Hikaru as the boy came to. "Shindo-san?" Akira asked. A weak hand wiped his mouth. "Oh no, not again."

Akira looked at him. "Cancer," he said. "I thought it was in remission."

"Clearly not," Hikaru replied. "Tell me, who were you talking to? It sounded like you were afraid."

Akira turned a bit pale. "It's nothing," he said.

Hikaru wanted to press further, but decided not to, as he remembered the name Sumakana. It gave him something to look for. He sighed as he helped the boy to a seated position. He'd just met a new potential friend, and already this boy was dying. Somehow, he found himself always among the dying. His mind settled on an option to save Akira, but it would mean changing his entire world.

The EMTs came and helped Akira step into the ambulance. Hikaru frowned as Akira waved a bloodied hand at him. "I'll see what I can do," he told the boy, making him wince as he pulled a hair from his head.

"What could you do?" Akira asked as they shut the doors.

Hikaru looked down at his shirt, a blood stain on it from helping Akira. He pulled out his cellphone, walking a safe distance away from prying ears. "Doctor Fujiwara?" he asked.

On the other side of town, a feminine looking young man in his thirties answered the phone. "Hikaru!" he said. He frowned slightly at the tone of voice. "Hikaru, is something wrong? I can tell when you're upset."

"Sai," Hikaru replied, "I just made a friend, but he's dying of cancer. I was wondering if I could help him."

Sai took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So, you're asking me to break protocol and give you something to inject this boy with."

Hikaru rolled his eyes. "Your drug turned me, a weak asthmatic with bone density problems into a super soldier," he reminded, "don't you have something a little less intense that'll do the trick?"

Sai shook his head. "Look," he replied. "I'm only authorized to deliver these body altering nanite medicines under certain circumstances. You're damn lucky this phone call is encrypted." He listened to Hikaru's long pause. "You know what? Fine. I'll help your friend. You must be pretty aching to have a friend to put not just yourself, but me, on the line for this."

Hikaru smiled wide. "Yes! Thank you, Sai! I appreciate it. I owe you."

"You _do_ , indeed," Sai reminded. "See you in ten."

Hikaru waved a cab. "Take me to the street corner eight blocks up and five blocks east," he instructed. The cabbie looked at him funny before taking off. Dropping him off at the corner, he took the money and left. Hikaru began walking and texting. A few blocks up near an alley, a car stopped and picked the boy up. A familiar head of purple long hair and a pouty face awaited.

"Aww, Hikaru," Sai complained, "I didn't want to have to write a false report for Kerberos."

"Shut it," Hikaru replied, sitting in the back. "This guy plays Go like a professional, and he's my age." Sai perked up. "Yeah, I knew that'd work. You want to meet him?"

"Yes! Yes! I'd love to play Go with him!" Sai cheered.

"Well, I'll bring him by once you give me the formula," Hikaru said. They drove a series of roads to a service tunnel entrance. Sai scanned his eye and the tunnel led to a garage elevator that took the car down to a secret underground base. The laboratory underneath the maintenance tunnels provided Sai with an opportunity to work without being bothered. They arrived at a spot isolated by electromagnetic-resistant Faraday cage wiring. Sai and Hikaru exited the car and the scientist flipped a switch, illuminating his workspace.

They passed through a doorway and closed the wiring of the cage. Sai booted up his computer. "Alright, here's what I can do," he explained to Hikaru. "I gave you grade one Accelerator formula, because your body was weak, but otherwise stable, and you were a perfect candidate. This Touya Akira-san is _dying_. I have to give him Accelerator grade two. That means you have to guide him through the changes because the effect takes place immediately, not gradual like it was with you. Are you up for keeping an eye on him?"

Hikaru nodded. "I am," he said.

Sai took a deep breath. "You sure? Once we do this, he's a part of our world from now on. Are you good friends with him?"

Hikaru sighed. "Look, I know I've only known him for about a day, but he's got cancer, and I can't just let him die knowing we could do something."

Sai mulled it over before rolling his eyes. "Damn it," he swore. He stuck out his hand. "I trust you thought to get a hair or blood sample?" Hikaru handed him the hair. He inserted it into a tube and attached it to a large cylindrical device hooked up to the PC. As the computer beeped away, an indicator displayed as a silvery liquid filled the tube. A few minutes later, the tube emptied and a dark green liquid poured into the tube. Sai removed the tube at the computer's instruction and attached it to a separate cylindrical device. The green liquid mixed with more of the silvery liquid, and poured into a small vial attached to the bottom of the tube. Sai removed the vial and handed it with lid intact to Hikaru. "Here. It's been programmed for his DNA and should take twelve to sixteen hours to finish."

"Thanks!" Hikaru beamed, heading for the door.

"Remember!" Sai stopped him with a yell. "Do _not_ let anyone see that! Take the fifth maintenance tunnel exit south of here and that'll lead you to the hospital several blocks away."

"Got it," he told him.

"Ogata-san hears none of this!"

Hikaru threw up his arms as he exited. "Got it!"

After twenty minutes of careful walking, Hikaru got to the hospital. He endured a thirty-minute wait until they said he could see Akira, who had been stabilized, but was otherwise the same. He entered the room on the second floor and opened the door slowly. He mentally swore as he saw the mother and father present. The Meijin, Koyo Touya, sat quietly watching his son take ragged breaths. He looked less imposing in such a worried state as opposed to his television appearances. The mother was pouring water into a cup and helping her son drink.

Akira noticed him first. "Shindo-san," he said, smiling. "I wondered if you were going to show up."

The mother looked at him first. "Oh, hello! Are you a friend of his?" She looked back at her son. "Is he a friend of yours?"

"We played Go," Akira answered, coughing. "He's pretty good. He helped me into the ambulance."

Koyo stood, faced Hikaru, and bowed slightly. "Thank you, Shindo-san, for taking the time to care for my son," he said.

"You're welcome," Hikaru replied. He scanned the room for any opportunity to administer the formula. With the parents here, he couldn't attach the vial to the IV cord. A ha, he thought. He saw the mother go to pour from the pitcher of water, only for it to be empty. "Do you want me to fill up the glass for you, Touya-san?" he asked.

Akira smiled. "Yeah, I'm really thirsty from the medication," he admitted.

Hikaru took a paper towel from the bathroom sink, grabbed the glass, and went into the bathroom. He shut the door and kept his ears peeled. Sai had designed the nanites to be waterproof and therefore, he emptied the vial into the glass and filled it with water. The dark brown color of the glass hid the slight greenish tint quite well. "Here you go!" he said, handing the glass to Akira. He wasn't worried about the parents taking a drink, because the meds were tuned to Akira's DNA, and also because he primed them by asking Akira directly if he wanted a drink.

Akira downed the glass in seconds, letting out a burp. His father gave him a stern look and his mother chastised him.

"Akira! Don't be rude!"

He gave her a slight chuckle. "I'm sorry, I just really get thirsty when they give me these treatments." He turned to Hikaru. "Thank you very much. I appreciate it. I hope I get better soon so we can play another match." He laughed. "I don't want to lose my hair again after the previous round of chemotherapy."

"I have a feeling you'll be just fine," Hikaru said.

Koyo interrupted. "If my son is feeling better tomorrow, perhaps we can set up a goban in this room?"

Both boys lit up. "That's a great idea!" Hikaru chimed in.

"I'd like that," Akira responded.

"Well, I'll be seeing you around," Hikaru said. "I have to get home."

His heart was racing as he left. He had just saved the life of someone he couldn't have saved by himself. As he walked home, he looked forward to tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

A jarring alarm woke Hikaru from his slumber. He hit the clock and swung his body around to a seated position. Unplugging his phone from the charger lit up the display. Some five voicemails appeared. He logged in and heard the usual mission reports from Ogata, in coded speak. The last one was Akira, asking the boy to call him back, because he felt completely different from the day before.

"Touya Akira speaking."

"Hey, you said you were feeling better?" Hikaru replied, feigning ignorance.

"Yeah, for some reason, I'm feeling as if I'm a whole new person," Akira explained. "Somehow, I can breathe just fine and my energy is through the roof."

"Really? How's the cancer looking?"

"It's strange," the boy said. "It's almost a miracle, if such things exist. The tumors have shrunk almost sixty percent since last afternoon."

"That's amazing! You want to play a game of go?"

There was a pause. "You know what? Sure. I'm sure the hospital staff will let me have that while they're running their tests."

Not eight minutes later Hikaru sat opposite a goban with Akira seated in his bed staring intently at some white stones. Both parents sat watching the game. Koyo took a special interest in this game, and both players did their best not to be distracted.

Hikaru played his first move. He drank from his teacup and waited for his friend to play. Meanwhile, the large plate of hospital food sat in front of Akira next to his bowl of stones. "You hungry?" Hikaru pressed, knowing the answer.

"Yeah," Akira replied. "For some reason, I'm _really_ hungry today."

"Must be your body killing the cancer," Akira's mother thought out loud.

"Yeah, surely," Hikaru lied. He knew the reason. Accelerator built muscle tissue within the body until the person reached a certain level of enhanced physical fitness. In his case, Hikaru had a minor increase in his diet for eight months while the nano-drug took effect. In Akira's case, based on the way his gown sleeves strained—compared to their loose hanging from the day before—he estimated the dark-haired teenager had put on almost ten pounds of muscle overnight, and the only reason it wasn't more was because of him sleeping.

Akira wolfed down a piece of roast beef, then quickly devoured a scoop of potatoes while with the other hand placing a stone. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "My manners aren't usually this bad."

"It's okay, Akira," the father replied. "Your body is adjusting. It'll settle down after a while."

Hikaru responded to several of the moves. It was clear after less than twenty minutes he couldn't win. He could use his mental enhancements, but that would be cheating. No, he would accept his loss and get better naturally. "I resign," he said.

"Thank you for the game," Akira responded.

Hikaru stood up. "I've got some places to go, but if you want, I'll meet you by the go salon after you get out."

"They're probably going to discharge me after the lab work gets done," Akira explained. "It shouldn't be more than a few more hours."

Hikaru went to the go salon and paid, then sat, waiting. He played a number of the old men and beat them, gracefully showing them how they lost and giving helpful advice. The hours floated away as he found himself the center of attention for multiple teaching games.

After four hours, Akira walked in, he carried in his hand a bag from a fast food place nearby. "Hikaru?" he said. "Do you mind if we go somewhere else?"

"What do you…?" Hikaru stopped when he saw the concerned look on the boy's face. His smile evaporated. "Yeah, that's fine. We can go somewhere else."

Akira walked out, Hikaru leaving the tables and following. "So, they let you out of the hospital?"

Akira let out a sigh. "Oh, don't play dumb with me," he shot back. "Of _course_ they let me out when they did another set of images and found my tumors completely gone." He devoured a hamburger in four bites and discarded it into the bag, pulling out another. "I've pieced together this fucked-up scenario in my head, and the only possible place something strange could've happened was when you went into the bathroom to get me some water."

Hikaru sighed. "Look…"

"Tell me," he said, stopping and turning around to face his fellow go player. "Did you slip me a drug?"

Hikaru looked him dead on. "Yes, I did," he confessed.

Akira held up the sack. "I've eaten almost nine thousand calories since I got up this morning. I digest a meal in seconds, and I'm hungry again. What the hell is happening to me?"

"Walk," Hikaru said, strolling forward. "What you've been given is a drug I can't say out loud, because officially it doesn't exist. Where I got it from is non-existent, and all I can tell you is you'll never have to worry about your physical fitness again."

"That doesn't answer my question," Akira shot back.

"Do your clothes feel a bit tight?" Hikaru asked. "Surely you've noticed your body."

"No shit!" Akira shouted.

"Catch me and you'll find out more!" Hikaru took off at a dead sprint. Even considering the boy was wearing dress clothes it astonished him to see the swiftness. It was beyond anything he imagined. A few bites later and he finished the last burger. He took off at full speed. His feet bewildered him, as he never imagined _himself_ running so fast. The distance between the two closed. Hikaru turned down an alley. Akira swung himself around and followed.

In an attempt to escape, Hikaru leapt some ten feet into the air and five feet forward to grab onto the ladder on the side of a building. He bounded up onto the platform and began scaling upward towards the roof. Akira took a deep breath, and jumped.

Unfortunately for him, his aim was a bit off. He collided with the ladder and it lowered a few feet, leaving him dangling five feet above the ground. He decided to trust his newfound gift and with a sharp pull, launched himself upward, landing on his feet on the platform. He scaled the ladder with exceptional speed and in moments, stood on the roof opposite Hikaru.

"How's your breathing?" Hikaru taunted.

"You son of a bi…" Akira stopped mid-sentence. He wasn't panting. He wasn't coughing. He wasn't even really sweating. "What is this?"

Hikaru took a calculated risk. "Accelerator formula, category two," he explained. "It's a nanite-administered drug designed to enhance the physicality and mentality of a target. You're hungry because your body has to build the muscle tissue from something. Your entire body has been rewired for maximum performance."

"So, what do I do now?"

Hikaru laughed. "Live, that's what. How am I supposed to know?"

Suddenly, it hit Akira again. "Oh god, does the hunger ever go away?"

"Once you've eaten enough for all the muscle," Hikaru explained. "Don't worry, a few more meals and you'll level off." He motioned behind him. "On the next roof we can take the stairs down. There's an all-you-can-eat not a block from here. I'll explain everything."

They walked to the restaurant. As they sat at a corner table eating plates of Korean barbecue, Hikaru explained the story.

"When I was eight years old, I broke a bone for the first time," Hikaru said. "Between eight and ten, I broke six more times. It was discovered I had a bone disease. Combined with my already weak musculature, I was destined to spend my life in and out of hospitals." He took a drink. "One of my blood samples was sent to Doctor Fujiwara Sai, who offered me a solution. He had developed a nano-drug that could not just fix me, but make me physically perfect and mentally enhanced. My parents took the offer. Ogata came later and offered me a job, because my talents as a security professional could come in handy. Plus, it gave me the opportunity to pay Sai off for his drug."

Akira cocked his head. "Pay him off? How much does it cost?"

"About two million U.S. dollars, or," he did the math in his head," roughly two hundred and ninety million yen."

Akira nearly spat out his drink. "What?"

Hikaru held up his hand. "Please. Sai has made more than enough money off of where I work that he doesn't have to worry about being owed money anymore."

"So," Akira asked, "what does Ogata-san have you do?"

"Ogata-san is a ranking official in Kerberos Security," Hikaru replied, "and we specialize in…heavy-duty security." He noticed the look on Akira's face. "I can't tell you more than that."

Akira took a bite of his food. "I understand," he said. "Still, how can you do…you know, what it is you do? I mean, aren't you afraid?" He wasn't going to play stupid. He could guess well enough what kind of work would require a peak human physique.

"I am afraid," Hikaru replied, "and that allows me to focus. I keep fear in a balance. Otherwise, panic would get me killed." He took a drink. "Who's Sumakana?"

Akira frowned slightly. "Sumakana is a ranking Yakuza member. My father owes him money for helping with my medical bills."

Hikaru shook his head. "Damn, I imagine that's expensive. So, what's he saying?"

"My father was supposed to pay the twenty million last month," he admitted. "The tournament's run over, so my dad won't be able to make a dent in the payment for almost two weeks."

"So, what are you going to do?" Hikaru's question caught Akira by surprise. He hadn't even entertained the thought of doing something about it. The idea of being able to do something about it struck him as bizarre.

"What am I going to _do about it_?" Akira asked. He shook his head. "What _can_ I do about it?"

"I can't have you work for the same organization I work for," Hikaru said. "But one thing I believe I could do is help you out. How well do you know how to fight?"

Akira shrugged. "I took some basic karate lessons but I really don't know how to do much."

"Meet me at the fitness center eight blocks down the road from the Go salon," Hikaru replied. "I want to teach you how to fight."

Akira raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me how to defend myself?"

Hikaru grinned slightly. "I'm not telling you anything," he countered. "Whether it's defensive, or offensive, that's up to you. You need to learn it either way."

Akira finished his meal. "So, what makes you so qualified to teach fighting?"

"I've been professionally combat trained," Hikaru shot back. "You're better than me at Go, and I'm the same amount better than you at fighting."

Akira watched Hikaru get up and leave. His feelings on the matter of the last few days left him pondering. On one hand, the boy had given him a new lease on life. Cancer would no longer be a concern. In fact, his physical well-being would no longer be a concern. On the other hand, he'd pulled him into a world of danger and confusion. He paid his bill as well and got up to leave.

On the way out, he looked up Kerberos Security on his phone. Their publically available profile spoke of everything from personal bodyguards to office security, to event security. He guessed correctly that they wouldn't mention their international workings on their website. After a few more minutes of searching, he came across a publically available government website that discussed the history of decisions made by the Diet and signed by the Prime Minister. A decade prior, international law had changed, treaties signed, and private security firms could sign contracts with military and governmental offices to provide contract security. No further details were shown besides the official wording of the bill, but he imagined at once the vast underground activity not spoken about out loud. As he put his phone into his belt holster, it occurred to him that Hikaru had tread very thin ice and taken a great personal risk by doing what he had done.

He headed over to a gym where he typically did physical therapy after each round of chemotherapy. He went to his locker and changed into his gym clothes. He noticed his slender frame had disappeared, replaced by a muscular body with dramatically pronounced tone and a considerable size increase. While still not as thick as some of the muscle-bound athletes that would come in every so often, it still looked leagues ahead of where he'd ever been. His loose-fitting shirt barely fit. A pair of sweat shorts stretched snugly over his newly-toned legs. He eagerly went to the squat rack to see how his body had altered, and how Accelerator lived up to its name. The most he'd ever squat before was eighty kilograms. So, to test his body, he put twice that much on. It occurred to him immediately that the twenty kilogram weights felt like pillows as he attached them to the bar. After getting into the proper position, he performed a set of twelve reps, and racked the bar. It felt like carrying a small backpack. After putting the weights up, he got on the treadmill. Starting at his normal best—a fast six kilometers per hour—he ran for about fifteen minutes, breathing normally.

Twenty-five minutes in, he switched to a blistering twelve kilometers per hour. Almost thirty more minutes passed and he hadn't even begun to sweat yet. After an hour at fifteen kilometers per hour, he stopped. By this point, he was dodging glances that people were giving him. His level of activity had gotten noticed, and he wanted to avoid that. Calmly he showered, dried, and changed before heading home. He changed into some workout clothes, dodged his parents, and headed out to the fitness center Hikaru had spoken about.

The inside of the building had a fair amount of people working out on traditional equipment. He saw his Go opponent waiting for him on a bench near the back of the weight room. Upon seeing Akira, he waved at the front desk and the man threw him a set of keys. He then motioned to a back door and Akira followed, curious.

They stepped inside a large room where a square pad four meters on a side sat on a large open floor. A bag sat near the pad. "Step up," Hikaru began, "and we'll go over the basics." He looked at Akira's outfit. "Since you're wearing shorts, we'll go over the fundamentals of one on one face to face combat. Next time, wear sweatpants so we can cover fighting with restrictions. Ok?"

Akira nodded. "So, does the style of combat matter?"

Hikaru smiled a bit. "First thing you'll learn," he began, "is that this isn't MMA. Style is irrelevant. Honestly, stylized fighting will more often than not get you killed because you're restricted to a certain way of fighting." He stepped back, putting a meter between them, and put his hands behind his back. "Come at me with anything."

Akira shrugged, tensed his muscles, and came at Hikaru with a forward kick to the gut. Hikaru smiled, and fast as a lightning strike, slapped the leg down, twisted a bit, and thrust out a standing side kick at Akira, chest height. He stopped a centimeter short. "My god, how'd you do that? I barely saw that," Akira replied, bewildered.

"Training," Hikaru replied. "First thing you'll notice is that if you learn to train your mind, you'll have a lightning quick reaction time. You know how people say when your life is in danger, you see things in slow motion?" Akira nodded. "We are able to do that at will."

Akira shook his head. "What? How do we do that?"

Hikaru mulled it over. "Hmm, well, I have an idea," he replied. "I'm not going to stop."

"Stop what?" Akira asked. Hikaru gave a grin.

In a flash, Hikaru whipped a hunting knife out of his short pocket, grabbed it facing downward, and aimed for a slash-punch at Akira's throat.

Akira's heart rate accelerated, his forehead began to sweat. As fear began to rise, he saw the blazing fast fist begin to slow down. He brought his left hand up and blocked the strike with his forearm. Hikaru drew back, swapped the knife's position, and aimed a stab at the chest. Akira swapped it to the side and delivered a sharp forward kick to the abdomen, knocking Hikaru backward.

"Oh! I'm sorry!"

Hikaru shook his head. "Don't be. That was…acceptable," he replied.

Akira coughed. "It was?"

"Now we just have to train you to do that at will."

Akira nodded. "So, what do we do?"

"Block my attack," he replied. "I'm not going to tell you. Use your enhanced sense about you to figure it out. Use the state of mind you were just in."

A minute went by of nothing happening except Hikaru studying Akira's facial expressions. Akira spent thirty seconds figuring mental states out. He wanted to know how he could willingly bring up that state. After a minute, he settled on the right thought process. As he thought not just of his own well-being, but that of his family, he found a familiar balance of fear and resolution, and time seemed once more to slow down. It must be what the fictional Sherlock Holmes felt like, Akira pondered.

As Hikaru's expression changed—ever so slightly, that only someone in this mental state would notice—indicating he had decided to strike, a number of clues became immediately apparent. Wrinkling of fabric in response to movement told the boy that his opponent was preparing leg muscles to move forward. The left arm would move backward, and the right arm would prepare for a straight punch. Based on the alignment of the body, the punch would be chin height. Akira waited until Hikaru had sufficiently begun throwing the punch, then rapidly shifted to the side, grabbed the forearm, and performed a hip throw, sending the assailant to the ground. With Hikaru sprawled out in front of him, he backed up.

"Good, you've got the basic idea down," Hikaru said, kipping up. "Now, don't get cocky—this is equivalent to learning to walk. You've got a lot ahead of you. But now you know what to do."

Akira nodded. "So now, we spar? Like that?"

"Most punches and kicks are telegraphed kilometers away," Hikaru replied. "I deliberately gave you a punch I knew even your beginners' grasp would identify. Now you learn to fight for real."

Both dropped into a fighting stance. Hikaru sprung forth with a knee to the chest. Akira pushed back with his right hand and delivered a punch which Hikaru blocked. His opponent received a strike to the torso which knocked him backward. Hikaru went for another punch but found it dodged, which put him in prime position for a rising knee. He bent his torso backward and went for a headbutt which landed. Akira stumbled backward and left himself open for an elbow strike which he recovered just in time to duck below. Hikaru found himself surprised as he took an elbow to the gut. Akira took advantage, grabbed Hikaru by the hair, and drove a knee into his face. As Hikaru stumbled backward, his opponent sent a roundhouse kick his way, which he ducked below. The move left Akira wide open as Hikaru delivered a standing side kick to his opponent's chest, launching him back a half meter onto his back.

"Sorry about that," Akira said, "I didn't mean to knee you in the face."

Hikaru shook it off. "Nah, don't worry about it," he replied. "You reacted the way you should have. I like that. You're grasping the basics."

They went a few more times, with Akira impressing Hikaru quite a bit. After an hour, they left the gym and a car awaited them outside the building. A long-haired scientist stood by the car with folded arms. "So," Sai began, "I see someone's taken right away to his new abilities."

Akira bowed. "I have to thank you for saving my life," he began. "I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you."

"I'm glad," Sai replied. "Get in and we'll go for a ride."

Akira climbed in the backseat and Sai drove off. Hikaru produced a test tube and took a blood sample from his sparring partner. Sai took it and put it in the glove compartment. "So, how's business?" Hikaru asked.

"Sold a civilian version of Accelerator," Sai answered. "Not as potent, but then again, not everyone needs to be a Super Soldier." He looked at Akira. "I compare blood as time goes by for each person I give the full formula to. I have to ensure it works as promised as time progresses."

"I'm not worried," Akira said. "It got rid of my cancer. Anything else is gravy."

"If you want to take down Sumakana, we have to worry," Hikaru replied. "Fortunately, Sai never builds a defective product."

Akira almost choked. " _Take down Sumakana_?" he asked. "That guy's headquarters are guarded by a huge amount of Yakuza goons!"

"Why do you think Hikaru is training you?" Sai interjected.

Akira shook his head. "I'm not sure about this," he sheepishly said.

"You are," Hikaru answered. "You're just nervous about the execution of it. I think in your mind, you've more than made up your mind."

Akira thought about it. "Yeah, you're right. In my head, he's a dead man." He looked at the other two. "But look at me! I'm not doing this alone!"

Hikaru shrugged. "No one said you were."

"But we can't involve ourselves or Kerberos in this in any official manner," Sai replied. "Because Sumakana is protected."

Akira was surprised at first. "Well," he said, "I guess I can't say I didn't expect him to be government protected."

"So you see why I'm so eager to involve you," Hikaru replied. "You're helping yourself, us, and Japan. We would've had to leave him be if I hadn't found you."

Akira gave Hikaru a stern look. "I appreciate everything you're doing, but I want to let you know, I will not kill people for a living."

Hikaru held out a hand. "And you shouldn't have to," he replied. "But, do we have a deal? I help you defeat this Yakuza boss, and you help me in Go?"

Akira shook his hand. "Deal, but are you serious about going professional in Go?"

"Ever since Ogata started playing me at it."

"So," Akira asked, "what equipment are we going to need?"

"Don't worry about that," Sai replied. "I've got that handled."

Hikaru leaned back in his seat. "So, can we play one more game before we take you home?"

Akira looked over. "If you're serious about Go, then yes."


End file.
